Part 14 (1/2)

HOME-COMING AND UNEXPECTED SURPRISES.

Upwards of another year pa.s.sed away, and at the end of that time a s.h.i.+p might have been seen approaching one of the harbours on the eastern seaboard of America. Her sails were worn and patched. Her spars were broken and spliced. Her rigging was ragged and slack, and the state of her hull can be best described by the word `battered.' Everything in and about her bore evidence of a prolonged and hard struggle with the elements, and though she had at last come off victorious, her dilapidated appearance bore strong testimony to the deadly nature of the fight.

Her crew presented similar evidence. Not only were their garments ragged, threadbare, and patched, but the very persons of the men seemed to have been riven and battered by the tear and wear of the conflict.

And no wonder; for the vessel was a South Sea whaler, returning home after a three years' cruise.

At first she had been blown far out of her course; then she was very successful in the fis.h.i.+ng, and then she was stranded on the reef of a coral island in such a position that, though protected from absolute destruction by the fury of the waves, she could not be got off for many months. At last the ingenuity and perseverance of one of her crew were rewarded by success. She was hauled once more into deep water and finally returned home.

The man who had been thus successful in saving the s.h.i.+p, and probably the lives of his mates--for it was a desolate isle, far out of the tracks of commerce--was standing in the bow of the vessel, watching the sh.o.r.e with his companions as they drew near. He was a splendid specimen of manhood, clad in a red s.h.i.+rt and canvas trousers, while a wide-awake took the place of the usual seafaring cap. He stood head and shoulders above his fellows.

Just as the s.h.i.+p rounded the end of the pier, which formed one side of the harbour, a small boat shot out from it. A little boy sculled the boat, and, apparently, had been ignorant of the s.h.i.+p's approach, for he gave a shout of alarm on seeing it, and made frantic efforts to get out of its way. In his wild attempts to turn the boat he missed a stroke and went backwards into the sea.

At the same moment the lookout on the s.h.i.+p gave the order to put the helm hard a-starboard in a hurried shout.

Prompt obedience caused the s.h.i.+p to sheer off a little, and her side just grazed the boat. All hands on the forecastle gazed down anxiously for the boy's reappearance.

Up he came next moment with a bubbling cry and clutching fingers.

”He can't swim!” cried one.

”Out with a lifebelt!” shouted another.

Our tall seaman bent forward as they spoke, and, just as the boy sank a second time, he shot like an arrow into the water.

”He's all safe now,” remarked a seaman quietly, and with a nod of satisfaction, even before the rescuer had reappeared.

And he was right. The red-s.h.i.+rted sailor rose a moment later with the boy in his arms. Chucking the urchin into the boat he swam to the pier-head with the smooth facility and speed of an otter, climbed the wooden piles with the ease of an athlete, walked rapidly along the pier, and arrived at the head of the harbour almost as soon as his own s.h.i.+p.

”That's the tenth life he's saved since he came aboard--to say nothin'

o' savin' the s.h.i.+p herself,” remarked the Captain to an inquirer, after the vessel had reached her moorings. ”An' none o' the lives was as easy to manage as that one. Some o' them much harder.”

We will follow this magnificent seaman for a time, good reader.

Having obtained permission to quit the South Sea whaler he walked straight to the office of a steam s.h.i.+pping company, and secured a fore-cabin pa.s.sage to England. He went on board dressed as he had arrived, in the red s.h.i.+rt, ducks, and wide-awake--minus the salt water.

The only piece of costume which he had added to his wardrobe was a huge double-breasted pilot-cloth coat, with b.u.t.tons the size of an egg-cup.

He was so unused, however, to such heavy clothing that he flung it off the moment he got on board the steamer, and went about thereafter in his red flannel s.h.i.+rt and ducks. Hence he came to be known by every one as Red s.h.i.+rt.

This man, with his dark-blue eyes, deeply bronzed cheeks, fair hair, moustache, and beard, and tall herculean form, was nevertheless so soft and gentle in his manners, so ready with his smile and help and sympathy, that every man, woman, and child in the vessel adored him before the third day was over. Previous to that day, many of the pa.s.sengers, owing to internal derangements, were incapable of any affection, except self-love, and to do them justice they had not much even of that!

Arrived at Liverpool, Red s.h.i.+rt, after seeing a poor invalid pa.s.senger safely to his abode in that city, and a.s.sisting one or two families with young children to find the stations, boats, or coaches that were more or less connected with their homes, got into a third-cla.s.s carriage for London. On reaching the metropolis he at once took a ticket for _Sealford_.

Just as the train was on the point of starting, two elderly gentlemen came on the platform, in that eager haste and confusion of mind characteristic of late pa.s.sengers.

”This way, Captain,” cried one, hailing the other, and pointing energetically with his brown silk umbrella to the Sealford carriages.

”No, no. It's at the next platform,” returned the Captain frantically.

”I say it is _here_,” shouted the first speaker sternly. ”Come, sir, obey orders!”

They both made for an open carriage-door. It chanced to be a third cla.s.s. A strong hand was held out to a.s.sist them in.